A Night at Edoras
by Siberia1
Summary: A gapfiller for ROTK. Faramir's upset by the friendly exchange between Éowyn and Aragorn during the announcement of their betrothal. Éowyn confronts him, not understanding his sorrow. Includes asubplot involving Éomer, Imrahil and Lothíriel.
1. The Sorrow of Faramir

**A Night at Edoras**  
Chapter 1 – The Sorrow of Faramir  
by Siberia

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters here, nor am I making any money out of this. I just love _Lord of the Rings_, and this is my first attempt at fan fiction.

I would like to dedicate this story to my best friend Sailor Moffatt, who encouraged me and gave me the confidence to write this. If it wasn't for her support, you wouldn't be reading this labour of love.

Update: (February 5th, 2003) I've made some changes to the second chapter. I didn't like it, so I fiddled with it slightly. It's 350 words longer now.

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When the grand feast of the Golden Hall was over, Faramir felt a great need to escape the company of the other guests. The merry ambience at Meduseld had made him feel ill, and he had sought to relieve his discomfort by finding some fresh air. The Steward walked some distance away from the city gates of Edoras, and when he believed that he had isolated himself enough from civilization, he allowed his grey eyes to drift heavenward towards the night sky. 

His pounding headache had begun to melt away. A cool breeze gently lifted the strands of his raven hair, playfully moving them across his handsome features. The sudden winds had made his body shiver slightly. Although it was in the middle of August, the summers at Edoras were never particularly warm. Faramir stood alone in the open plains of Rohan, allowing the vast beauty of the heavens to consume his thoughts. Not one cloud obstructed his view. It was a perfect evening for stargazing.

Faramir had sought solace in the night sky ever since he was five years old, when his mother, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, passed away from the Circles of the World. When she died, only his protective brother remained to console him, but even the fearless Boromir could not shield his younger sibling from the fury of Denethor. Within the stars' twinkling presence, Faramir felt sheltered from all of the pain and anger that his stern father would unleash on him day after day.

Denethor had been dead for five months now. The thought of his father unwittingly made the young Steward move the silver ring around his finger, the symbol of his office. Faramir recalled the numerous instances when he felt the slice of this ring across his face. The memories of its sharp sting and the sheer coldness of its metal still troubled him. But there was now a new hurt aching inside Faramir's soul, and in some ways, it disturbed him more than the many years of his father's abuse and neglect.

Earlier in the evening, as the feast drew to a close, King Éomer had proudly announced to all of the guests the betrothal of his sister Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, to Faramir, the Steward of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien. The couple stood from their chairs, hand in hand, and Faramir was full of joy to be next to the woman he loved, as everyone lifted their glasses and drank to their future happiness.

However, the Steward's mood quickly plummeted when Lord Aragorn said, "No niggard are you Éomer, to give thus to Gondor the fairest thing in your realm!"

Éowyn turned her head to look upon the King, and exclaimed with delight, "Wish me joy, my liege-lord and healer!"

The King Elessar smiled. "I have wished thee joy ever since first I saw thee. It heals my heart to see thee now in bliss."

It did not escape Faramir's inquisitive grey eyes the particular gaze the Lord Aragorn and the Lady Éowyn shared during this brief exchange. It seemed to him that they both felt a certain regret, as if something might have happened between them if circumstances were different. At that moment, the Prince of Ithilien was almost certain that Éowyn still held the King Elessar dearest in her heart, and that he was but a consolation prize.

Jealousy hung heavily over Faramir's mind, and he was unable to look at his future wife or his King for the rest of the celebration. A headache had begun to plague him, and watching the other visitors clearly enjoying the festivities had only made him feel worse. Finally, when Éowyn had mingled in with the other guests, the Steward carefully slipped away from Meduseld, ensuring that no one would notice his leave.

As Faramir stared in wonder at the stars, he could not help but think that the Valar must have destined him to be second best in everybody's mind. No matter what he had advised during councils, or what deeds he had accomplished, the second son of Denethor had always been a source of disappointment to the old Steward. Faramir felt no shame being second to Boromir, of course, for his brother was the most courageous and loyal person that he knew. Sometimes, Faramir would even convince himself that he deserved to be treated in this fashion, for he had felt that he was but a pale shadow in the presence of his older sibling, unworthy of his father's love. However, this did not prevent him from hoping that one day, _someone_ would place him first.

At the Houses of Healing, the young Steward believed that Éowyn would finally be that person. Coupled with his mother's Elvish instincts (for the royal house of Dol Amroth are descendants of Mithrellas) and his father's Númenorian insight, Faramir thought he had accurately read the White Lady's heart. For he had discerned her love for him, shining through her grey eyes, and blushing through her pale cheeks as he kissed her in front of all of the healers and injured patients. When the Lady Éowyn had pledged her hand in marriage, Faramir was certain, for the first time in his life, that he would finally be complete and content. Her love was more than ample recompense for the loss of his entire family; his mother, Boromir, and loath he was to admit it, his father as well.

But now, doubt seared throughout the Prince of Ithilien's mind. Seeing his future wife and the Lord Aragorn speak in that fashion had unleashed all of his fears. "Why should she love me first?" he asked himself silently. "How can a lowly person like me compare to the great and noble Elessar? All of my life I had been overshadowed by someone else. I was always an afterthought, an echo in the void. Why would it be any different now?" Faramir sighed. "One would think I would be used to this by now…"

Tears rolled down his cheek. Faramir swiftly wiped them away. Although six months have passed, he had not yet fully recovered from the death of his brother. The sorrow he still felt for Boromir was now compounded by the sheer horror that his beloved Éowyn may only have settled for him. His emotions began to flow freely when he heard someone behind him speak his name.

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Mithrellas was a Silvan Elf from Lórien who become the mother of Galador, the first Prince of Dol Amroth.


	2. Éowyn's Search

**A Night at Edoras**  
Chapter 2 – Éowyn's Search  
by Siberia

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Éowyn was restless. She sighed while her pale fingers tapped the neck of her glass. "How much longer must I stand here like I am invisible?" she asked herself. Éowyn had begun to tire of watching her brother and the Lady Lothíriel. They were so obviously in love that it almost irritated her. In most circumstances, she would have found this situation amusing, for she could tease Éomer endlessly about his newfound interest. 

While the Lady of Rohan studied her sibling and the Dol Amroth princess, she understood why Éomer was so attracted to the young maiden. Imrahil's daughter was lovely, charming, and she never failed to laugh at all of his silly jokes. However, the display Éowyn saw before her was simply too much to bear. She secretly thought that the sight of mutilated Orc corpses would not make her feel as ill in her stomach as she did now.

Éowyn had started a conversation with her betrothed's cousin, for she had become quite fond of Prince Imrahil and his family; for whatever gentleness Faramir had inherited from his mother, it ran strong in the rest of Finduilas' kin. Her discussion with Lothíriel began well, and they seemed to be on the verge of becoming friends. But now, The White Lady was feeling excluded. King Éomer had used his sister as an excuse to join in their talk, and at each pause, he would immediately enthral the young maiden with tales of his victorious battles. Éowyn rolled her eyes. How many times had she heard Éomer recount these exploits every time there was a pretty female guest in attendance? Unable to halt his endless storytelling, she became lonely in her boredom.

With nothing left to occupy her mind, Éowyn pressed the rim of her cup unto her lips and drank little sips of the wine. In an instant, she suddenly recalled that she had not spoken with Faramir for quite some time. Without further delay, her grey eyes began to scan the Golden Hall for her future husband. Faramir had acted very aloof with her ever since they had been trothplighted in front of the guests. She was puzzled by his behaviour, for he seemed normal throughout the entire day. The Lady of Rohan had become somewhat fretful when she realized that her betrothed was nowhere to be found. "Though I am grateful that I have found a valid reason to get away from these two," her mind uttered silently.

Glancing back at her smitten brother and the Lady Lothíriel, Éowyn interrupted their conversation and said, "I am truly sorry, but I must leave you now. I cannot seem to find the Lord Faramir. I must go search for him."

Imrahil's daughter seemed worried. She pleaded, "Oh, please hurry, my Lady, for we shall miss your company!" Éowyn was not surprised to hear her say this, for she was aware that it would be much more difficult for the couple to conceal their blossoming affection without her presence.

A slender grin crept onto Éomer's face, and he replied in jest, "Very well, but do not tarry long. For 'tis very dangerous for a woman to be wandering outside beneath the cloak of darkness."

The White Lady gave a dirty glare to her sibling. As she handed the Rohirrim King her wine glass, she uttered sarcastically, "I shan't, _brother_." It annoyed her every time Éomer pretended she was incapable of fending for herself. Obviously, he had forgotten the many times they had sparred together. More often than not, Éowyn had knocked the wind flat out of his body, her sword gleaming triumphantly at his neck. It wounded her brother's pride that his younger sister by four years could overcome his battle prowess. She smiled at the memory.

As she passed the doors of Meduseld, Éowyn's thoughts turned to the events of the day, which moved much too slowly for her taste. The funeral for her uncle Théoden, whom she loved as a father, was agonizingly painful. The ceremony was quite long, for it began in the morning and continued 'til the evening. She allowed her grief to consume her when she saw her uncle's lifeless body, and Faramir had stood by her side the whole time, giving her support when she needed it, even if it meant that his shirt would be drenched beyond repair with her tears. Éowyn had been most grateful for her betrothed's presence, for he had offered her light during her period of darkness.

When the funeral was over, King Éomer insisted to his visitors that the feast of the Golden Hall should be perceived as a celebration of life. The White Lady had been grateful for this, for she had experienced enough mourning for one day. Éowyn's heart had sung with delight when her brother publicly declared her betrothal to the Lord Faramir. She had enjoyed the compliment that Lord Aragorn had bestowed on her, for it made her feel less ashamed of her previous infatuation with him. At least he did not believe she was unattractive. When Éowyn had glimpsed the ethereal beauty of Queen Arwen, she realized how foolish she was to have hoped that Aragorn would fall for her. "Well, no matter," she said to herself. "I am with Faramir now, and he is everything to me."

In response to King Elessar's kindness, Éowyn had asked him to wish her joy in her marriage. Almost immediately, she sensed a great change in her future husband's demeanour. Faramir seemed to be ill with a headache, which she knew he suffered oft when he was profoundly worried. When she had inquired as to what was bothering him, he only gave her curt replies. "Why must he always withdraw from me when he feels upset?" Éowyn asked silently. "It irritates me so when he does that." Living with a deceitful snake like Gríma had caused her to possess a strong dislike for those who do not speak fully their mind.

The Lady of Rohan became aware of the slight chill in the air. Being one of the Rohirrim, she barely felt it, but wondered whether she should have brought Faramir's mantle along. Gondorians, such as her betrothed, were used to warmer weather. But she had already covered a great distance and did not wish to return to the staleness of Meduseld, so she continued her search.

Éowyn had walked beyond the gates of Edoras when she saw a lonely figure in the distance. As she slowly approached it, she saw that it was Faramir, staring peacefully at the night sky. She quietly admired his subtle beauty, his black clothes revealing some of his lithe and graceful form. Éowyn could not help but grin. "What did I ever see in Aragorn, when I have a such a handsome man like this all to myself?" she pondered. When she finally a stood an arm's length away from her Lord, Éowyn had noticed that his face glistened slightly under the moonlight, and she had discerned that his cheeks had recently been wet by tears. The White Lady could no longer endure to watch the love of her life in pain...


	3. The Encounter Under the Moonlight

**A Night at Edoras**  
Chapter 3 – The Encounter Under the Moonlight  
by Siberia

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"Faramir?" 

Startled, the Prince of Ithilien broke out of his reverie and turned around to face the female voice calling for him. It was Éowyn, clad in a royal blue gown. Faramir was aware that she chose that particular colour to please him, for it reminded him of his beloved mother. Some of her golden strands slipped loose from her braid as folds of her garment rustled with the breeze. Her eyes were riddled with concern. Despite this, he still believed that his future wife was the most beautiful woman that walked upon the shores of Arda.

"My Lady," he responded rather gloomily, though he was still in awe to be near Éowyn's elegant presence.

Confusion stretched across her pale face as she tenderly placed her right hand on his left shoulder. "Faramir, what is wrong?" she asked. "Why did you leave without me? What are you doing here, so far away from my brother's Hall?"

"I..." Her betrothed seemed unable to word his feelings, and gave her a half-truth. "I simply wanted to look at the stars."

Éowyn was not pleased with his answer. "If that were true, then you would have brought me to stargaze with you!" She was frustrated, not realizing that Faramir instinctively acted in this manner. Living with Denethor had taught him that silence and vague replies were his best defences against such a demanding father. She added firmly, "You know I detest it when you withhold things from me! Speak plainly! Tell me what is troubling you."

How could the gentle Faramir ignore his Lady's commands? "I saw the way you and the King Elessar glanced at each other when Éomer proclaimed our betrothal." He paused, as he gathered his thoughts and averted her piercing gaze. "It just…upset me that I no longer hold the highest place in your heart. Or perhaps I never did. That is why I wanted to be alone."

Éowyn was stunned by the Steward's words. "My Lord, is that what has been bothering you?" With her left hand, she lifted her slim fingers towards his right cheek. "Faramir, look at me!"

He obeyed; their grey eyes were now staring at each other, with nothing but the wind, the stars and the moonlight to witness this moment.

The Lady Éowyn continued. "'Tis true that I loved the Lord Aragorn. But you yourself said that I had loved him like a young soldier who would admire a great Captain. And you were right. I know now that my feelings for him were only remnants of a silly, girlish infatuation. Elessar never would have been able to fulfil me. The King healed my physical wounds, but 'twas only the sweet love of the Lord Faramir that mended my spirit. Only you gave me the strength to live again."

Faramir turned away his eyes from the White Lady once more, not certain if the restoration of her psyche was enough to ensure that she loved him more than the King. He uttered quietly, "I do not know, my Lady. You seemed so happy when he wished you bliss in our marriage."

Éowyn could not believe what she was hearing. With her pale fingers, she placed a soft pressure against his face and forced Faramir to look at her again. "And what of it? Should I be miserable when someone wishes me joy with you?"

"Well, no, but 'twas strange that you needed to ask for the Lord Aragorn's blessing. And that look you two shared…"

"Faramir! There was no such thing! I was simply glad that he wished us happiness. Nothing more. Do you not believe me?"

Éowyn's eyes began to fill with fluid, and the Prince of Ithilien feared that his Lady might start to cry. He held her head within his hands to comfort her in her distress, but did not know what else he should say. She quickly added, "I gave up my life as a shieldmaiden for you. Does that mean _nothing_ to you?"

The young Steward looked at her with bewilderment. He was almost angry. "I had never, _ever_, asked you to do that for me. Never would I ask the woman I love to abandon something she holds dear. You let go of the sword of your own free will."

"But do you not see?" she pleaded. "That is exactly the reason why I gave up the ways of a warrior! Because I know you would never have asked it. If any other man had demanded that of me, I would have struck him dead with my own sword! But you…you are so different from all of the other men that I have met. Whenever I am in your presence, I no longer feel the desire to have to prove myself by slaying another. Your tenderness knows no bounds; always is my happiness the chief among all of your concerns. You respect me as your equal. What more can a woman ask? That is why I vowed to become a healer. Being with you has taught me that giving life is a much more honourable and difficult deed than taking it away."

Last, but not least, Éowyn told him, "And I love you, Faramir. Only you, and no one else."

At that instant, Faramir's heart swelled with relief and joy, for he knew in her eyes that she had told him the truth. Free of his worries, he grasped his beloved into his arms and held her into a tight embrace, caressing her golden hair.

"Oh, Éowyn!" he exclaimed, once again staring at her fair features. "Can you ever forgive me for doubting you?"

"Well, my Lord…" she said teasingly, placing her hands on his chest, "you can start to amend your ways by giving me a kiss! I believe the last time you did was, oh, early this morning. It's been _far_ too long!" As soon as she had finished with her words, the Prince of Ithilien thought that her grey eyes twinkled with the starlight of Elbereth.

Faramir smiled. "Whatever the White Lady desires, she shall have it!" And he bent down to kiss her. His hands fell down to her waist as she moved her arms around his neck, their mouths tasting the love that they shared with one another. They melted slowly into a blissful state of ignorance from their surroundings, for as the couple's lips were locked in this passionate exchange, they suddenly heard a grumpy male voice.

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For those of you who are unfamiliar with the nitty gritty details of Tolkien's universe, "Arda" is the Quenya name for the whole world. "Elbereth" is the Sindarin title for the Vala Varda, who brought starlight to the night sky. 


	4. The Lovers Are Discovered

**A Night at Edoras**  
Chapter 4 – The Lovers Are Discovered  
by Siberia

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"Ahem." 

The lovers broke their embrace and they both took one step away from each other. Before them stood the displeased King Éomer; the figures behind him were the Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and his daughter the Lady Lothíriel.

The Steward gulped, and nodded to each person. "King Éomer, Uncle, Cousin. I did not expect your company."

Imrahil laughed heartily; obviously, the couple's embarrassing situation had amused him greatly. "Nephew! What shameful conduct for a Steward of Gondor! What would my sister say if she saw you doing this?"

Faramir grinned at his uncle, trying to conjure a clever response. "I believe my mother would have said that I was madly in love with Éowyn, much like when the mortal Beren first beheld the enchanting beauty of the Elf Lúthien Tinúviel. And she would have thought it was adorable!"

The Prince of Dol Amroth chuckled again. Éomer, on the other hand, was not so cheerful; he was appalled by the couple's inappropriate behaviour. Angrily eyeing his sibling's betrothed, he gave the young Steward a stern warning. "We wondered where you two had gone. You are quite free with my sister, Lord Faramir. Alone with her under the moonlight, with no chaperone! May I remind you that you are not married to her, yet. Explain your disgraceful conduct!"

Faramir avoided the King's gaze by staring at the ground, not knowing how he should respond to calm down his future brother in-law. He realized that nothing he could say would placate Éomer. After contemplating his condition, the Prince of Ithilien decided that it was wisest not to utter anything at all. Éowyn became concerned, for although Éomer was a powerful warrior, she knew from the first moment she had beheld the Lord Faramir at the Houses of Healing that no Rider of the Mark could outmatch him in battle. The King of Rohan started to move towards the Steward, and Éowyn could read in his features that he intended to force a response out of her future husband. Fortunately, she decided to intervene before their feud became any worse.

"Brother!" The Lady of Rohan stepped in between her betrothed and her sibling, her face teeming with defiance. "You are so overprotective! Who do you think defeated the Witch-King? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself! You should not concern yourself with the Lord Faramir. For he is the kindest and most honourable man that I have ever met!" She then made quick glance at Lothíriel, then to the King of Rohan, and finally settled her eyes on the Prince Imrahil, masterfully plotting her revenge.

"Lord Imrahil," she stated formally. "It did not escape my attention how oft my brother and your daughter glanced at each other throughout the festivities whenever your back was turned. They sought my company after the feast to disguise their growing fondness. You should keep a watchful eye on them." The Dol Amroth Prince seemed extremely stunned by this news, and when he looked at Éomer, the King blushed while Lothiriel giggled lightly.

After an awkward pause, Éomer finally opened his mouth and hesitantly said, "Éowyn, you have won. This time." After he had nodded his head to acknowledge his defeat to his sister, the three of them walked back to the city gates. No doubt Lord Imrahil was discussing what must be done with the objectionable behaviour of the Rohirrim King and his daughter.

Alone again, Éowyn rested her head firmly against Faramir's shoulder while they held hands. Strands of their raven and golden hair mingled together with the cool breeze. She was secretly pleased with her victory and grinned with satisfaction. She could not help but notice that her future husband was staring at her lovingly, as if he was admiring her valiant nature.

"You were absolutely magnificent, my Lady." The Steward raised her hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on each of them.

The White Lady of Rohan beamed at her Lord's compliment . "I know."

"How fortunate I am to be with a woman who could outwit both the King of Rohan and the Prince of Dol Amroth!"

She stared at him with amusement. "I thought _you_ were the one who was supposed to be witty and wise!"

Faramir pretended to be offended by her words. "Éowyn, you know I was merely having a bad day."

The lovers laughed merrily. And as they stargazed together, both thought how impatient they were for their wedding day.

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I hope you enjoyed my little story. Please review! 


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